


Bonds of Love and Magic

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Vhenan AU [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elvhenan, Angst, Arlathan, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Drabble Collection, Elvhenan, Elvhenan Culture and Customs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Masturbation, Sex Magic, Smut, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: In Elvhenan, arranged marriages are not all that unusual, but Lyna has no wish to be tied to anyone, even an Evanuris. New to power but still humble, her bethrothed, Fen'Harel, fears that this woman who was chosen for him will see in him the same evils he sees in himself. Yet chance would have it that though they have never met before their wedding, they are the perfect match. "Ma sa'lath" means more than "my one love." It means "only love," and it is a promise that love reaches deep, a vow that love will overcome any obstacle. It is more than just words; it is a bond.





	1. Arranged Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> @thema-sal-shiral is the reason I'm late updating Vhenan...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Another prompt! : Lyna and Fen'harel in Arlathan, an arranged marriage." From @thema-sal-shiral on tumblr!

It was strange to Lyna to know that she would not meet the man she was going to spend eternity with until the wedding. It wasn’t so unusual for the nobles of Elvhenan to have arranged marriages, she knew. It was an affair of bloodlines and alliances, keeping peace and making sure the People stayed strong and healthy, but it was still a strange concept in practice. As a child, she had been promised to one of Mythal’s nobles, and even though her betrothed had been raised up to the status of an Evanuris the betrothal had not been annulled. She, the only daughter of a moderate family who pledged themselves to Ghilan’nain, was to marry Fen’Harel, the newest of the Evanuris who had once been one of Mythal’s generals.

And she didn’t want to. She didn’t know him, she owed him nothing beyond what her family had promised. In fact, she had never seen him before in her life. Her family had kept her on their lands except for brief visits to court all her life and she had not even been present at the ceremony and celebrations that were held when his status was raised. She had begged her family to let her go, to let her see him and perhaps even speak with him, but they had not allowed it. Instead, as he was all but crowned as one of their leaders, she had been hunting one of Ghilan’nain’s more ferocious beasts as a way to release her frustration. When her family returned, they had all but sobbed with relief as they reported that the wedding was still on and would take place a decade later, as planned. She’d been furious, hoping that her betrothed would now be beyond her family’s reach.

She didn’t hate it because she had a lover. In truth, she’d never met anyone who could keep up with her long enough to even bed her. But she hated that her freedom was being taken from her. Would Fen’Harel keep her locked in a tower? Would he trot her out like a prized possession? Would he keep her in his bedroom to service his every pleasure no matter what she thought on the matter? He was an Evanuris, after all, and she was only a daughter of Lavellan. She would have little choice in the matter, in the end. She would have little power in this marriage of alliance and bloodlines. That was what she hated most of all.

Lyna buried her despair behind her fury as she brushed out her gown and adjusted the veil over her hair. Sadly, she would be able to hide nothing from Fen’Harel once the marriage was completed and he would know all her feelings on the matter. She wondered if that would make him kinder to her, if he would allow her more freedom if she plucked the bonds between them hard enough. She would flood his mind with her hatred if he forced her in bed…

Music filled the hall, bright and beautiful, and everything was so much _more_ than she’d ever thought to see. She’d been sheltered all her life, but she had her books and she had read about the grand marriages between the highest lords and kings, but the reality of it was almost overwhelming. Hundreds of people filled the grand hall, wearing sigils of dozens of noble houses belonging to every single Evanuris. At the front of the hall, Mythal sat on a grand throne. Not far away, Ghilan’nain sat in her own throne. The two Evanuris watched her approach, looking bored. Spirits flickered here and there but she didn’t bother to notice what kinds when she saw her betrothed waiting for her. 

Fen’Harel stood between the two thrones of the Evanuris, looking regal yet surprisingly modest. His dark brown hair was confined in many braids and pulled back at the nape of his neck, a wolf’s skull resting on his forehead as ornamentation. His robes were sky blue edged in gray, their style surprisingly simple. His trousers were tight, against the current fashion, and showed off long and muscular legs. He wore a vest of wrapped cloth that climbed high up his throat, and the long robe left his strong arms bare. His face caught and held her attention, though. Sharp cheekbones and full, pink lips were what she noticed first, and a long and dimpled chin. His nose was a bit large and charmingly crooked, his jaw chiseled by the gods themselves. His long ears were pierced many times and held studs of many types, from simple silver to slivers of bone. He wore no other ornaments, no rings or bracelets, except for a fossilized jawbone of some predator that hung low on his chest. He was almost impossibly handsome, and she supposed that might make it a little easier to wed a stranger.

He smiled at her, his blue-gray eyes taking in every detail of her. The gown of pale lavender whispered on the stone floor behind her, the long skirt flowing out from her legs. It hugged her torso tightly, the low scoop of the neckline showing off her ample cleavage and further accentuated by a necklace of sparkling crystals. Crystals set in silver sparkled at her ears and in bands around her biceps to show off that she was fit, archery and hunting making her strong. Her family had bade her to leave her hands bare of jewels as a way of showing him that she was committing to him, with nothing to interrupt the flow of the magic that would bind them. In this, she’d been forced to obey. Her long white hair was braided and curled and pinned until it resembled a crown around her head with curled strands falling loose from it. Her family was not very subtle about their hopes for this match…

It seemed to take an age, but finally she crossed the hall to stand before the man she was going to marry, the man she’d never met. His lips curled and his eyes sparkled as he reached out his hands for hers. She took them, their wrists crossing in the traditional way.

“You have remarkable eyes,” her betrothed murmured to her. She just barely resisted rolling her eyes at the statement. As though she hadn’t heard a million times how unique their color was! As if men and women hadn’t tried to woo her with interesting and often indelicate descriptions of her eyes! Why was it that those not versed in love believed that complimenting a person’s eyes would get them into her bed?

His smile turned into a smirk and she carefully schooled her face. “You were Fade-touched at birth, then?” he asked her, his words still soft as they took their places at the front of the hall. She looked up at him, surprised. No one ever realized that about her because most of the Fade-touched had green eyes or marks of power in their flesh. The violet of her eyes was of the deepest part of the Fade, where secrets untouched for thousands of years waited to be seen. It was not a color she’d seen on any others, even the Fade-touched.

“I was,” she admitted softly. His smile grew and warmed as he took in the details of her face.

“Remarkable,” he said again. “So full of emotion. You would not be here if your family had not demanded it, would you?” She clenched her jaw.

“I think that would be true of many who were promised as children to people they have never met,” she told him honestly. She would be able to hide nothing in a few moments, so why not tell the truth?

He smiled at her in sympathy, then raised his voice so that all might hear, beginning the exchange of vows. “I vow to do all in my power to be worthy of you,” he said, his voice strong and sure. “I will become a home, a sanctuary for you. I will give you my heart freely and without restraint. I vow to honor all that you are for as long as we may live.” His magic sparked against her skin, wrapping around their clasped hands like a ribbon tying them together.

Lyna was silent for a moment, considering. The vows her family had given her involved the words “duty” and “submission,” but they were not the truth. And he had surprised her with his vows. He would give her his heart? He, an Evanuris, would honor her and strive to be worthy of her? The people of Elvhenan already considered him to be her better, that she should be the one striving for him. Yet he considered her his equal? It was surprising and not unwelcome. So she changed her vows.

“I vow to do in all in my power to be worthy of you,” she began, a standard start. “I will be a port in the storm of life when you need and deserve it.” His lips curled and he seemed amused, but not mockingly. “I will create a home for you and fill it with all the warmth you deserve. I vow to honor all that you are for as long as we may live.” The deep corners of his smile told her that he was on the verge of laughter. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw her mother, looking stricken, a hand pressed to her heart that her rebellious daughter had altered the vows of submission to vows that she would give him only what he deserved. And yet, as she wrapped their hands in magic to bind herself to him, their power intertwining, he seemed pleased.

“I would expect nothing more or less,” he murmured as the magic sank into their skin. Lyna closed her eyes and gasped as a corner of her mind filled with him. She felt him shudder through their clasped hands as she became part of him. And through this new connection, she felt that he had been dreading it as well, that he had feared that she would loathe him. He did not much like himself, her new husband. She felt how he punished himself for every mistake, how he worried that she would see in him what he saw in himself. But beneath that and beneath the rush of their joining, she saw him as he was. Studious, quiet, kind where kindness was called for and vicious where it was not. She felt the strength of his personality and his will. She felt his love for the People and how much he wished to help them. She felt his love for travel and wandering the ancient places left untouched for ages beyond counting. She felt that he was intrigued by her, that her Fade-touched birth excited the scholar in him.

_Perhaps this match would not be so bad._

They had the thought together, and when she opened her eyes she found that he was staring at her, smiling. And she was suddenly transfixed by his lips and the desire to taste him, to see if he was as soft as he looked. He leaned closer and she closed the distance. And _yes_ , he was soft and warm and sweet. His hands wrapped gently around her waist and she wrapped hers around his shoulders and licked the seam of his lips. He let her in, tasting her, exploring her as he allowed her to explore him, and the crowd erupted in cheers that their newest Evanuris was wed.

When they parted, they were both breathless, and Lyna felt the same wonder she felt in his mind. “You are lovely,” he breathed, still so close that she could feel his breath on her face. And she smiled.

“As are you,” she told him, and felt his relief.


	2. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Follow up to the Prearranged Wedding: wedding night, a little bit of drinks, nervousness, figuring out this bond and some fucking good sex." From @thema-sal-shiral on tumblr!

The strangest thing about the feast following the vows was the way Lyna felt her new husband’s pleasure as he ate dessert after the hearty meal. He’d glanced at her continuously as she enjoyed her rabbit stew, a favorite meal of her childhood. And as he enthusiastically dug into the sweet little cakes and tasted several flavors before finding his favorite, she felt the frisson of pleasure he received from the taste.

Through silent agreement, they’d stopped drinking the delicious wine once they realized that the buzzing in their minds was shared, that they would get drunk twice as fast because the sensation was shared between them. Still, they were both a little woozy, just enough to relax with each other. As they finished eating, both basking in the pleasure of a wonderful meal, Lyna felt bold enough to reach over and snag her husband’s hand. She held it before her, tracing the patterns on his palm and touching each little scar that magic hadn’t quite erased. He watched her study his hand, calm contemplation building between them. She looked up at him after a few moments and he smiled encouragingly. She kissed his knuckles before giving his hand back and felt the shock in his lower belly.

It was strange, the shared sensations. She felt what he felt, but it was slightly distanced. And she would never have mistaken what he felt for her own feelings, but they were still strong within her. She knew he liked sweet foods because of the pleasure he felt during the meal. And she suspected from the gathering warmth between her legs that she was now feeling his arousal. But the sensation was strange, unlike what she was used to. Yet it called to her own sensuality and his eyes darkened slightly.

It wasn’t long after that they were expected to retire from the celebrations. Most of the guests would remain for wine and revelry, but the newlywed couple was expected to consummate their marriage. Lyna could feel herself blushing and the double heartbeat that pounded in her chest as Fen’Harel stood and held out a hand to help her up. She took it, needed the support with her nerves and his sizzling through her body, amplifying each other. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, and it seemed to help. Everything was suddenly so much more intense, shared between them and doubled, and they would need to learn tight control over themselves or be overwhelmed.

Everything that was coming was going to be new territory for Lyna. She would be staying the night in Fen’Harel’s rooms in his palace. She would be bedding a new man, one whom she had only shared a single kiss with. She would be bedding someone at all… It was to be a night of firsts.

The bedroom, once they finally got there through the cheers and jeers and whistling of the drunken crowd, was as understated as Fen’Harel himself. It was mostly glass to let in the natural light, but positioned within the palace so as to be very private despite the enormous windows. The room was done in the colors of autumn, bright yet peaceful, but it was the bed that drew her attention. His bed. Their bed.

He turned her face to his with a gentle finger on her chin and in his eyes she saw the same nervousness that she felt. “If you would rather wait,” he told her gently, “I would not be upset.” She blinked at him, surprised.

“What point would there be in waiting?” she asked him. They would have to consummate their marriage soon, or be shunned. Such a marriage, arranged between two prominent houses, was expected to produce heirs.

“Until we know each other better,” she was told, his voice still soft and gentle. She frowned slightly.

“Do you want to wait?” she asked, suddenly overwhelmed with her own anxiety. “Do you not find me attractive?” Shock flooded her from him and he coughed in surprise.

“I find you to be exquisite,” he told her, voice rough. “But I would coerce you into nothing. I have no wish to be your ball and chain. I would rather be your freedom.” And it was her turn to flood their bond with shock.

“You… want to give me freedom?” she asked him hesitantly. His palm was warm when he pressed it against her cheek and she leaned into it without thinking then sighed from the warmth he felt at the gesture.

“Yes, I would give you freedom,” he told her. “I would not hold you here. We are bound together for the sake of alliances and the People, but I will not chain you.”

She grinned at him, relief pouring forth. “That was what I feared most of all,” she whispered, feeling tears prick her eyes. “I feared that I would become your possession, a thing to be used and claimed and shown off to incite jealousy.” She heard him sigh.

“Never,” he vowed, and she felt his conviction flutter through her stomach. Still grinning, she reached a hand up and pressed it against his cheek. He was solidly a head taller than her and she had to look up to meet his gaze as she stepped closer.

“Good,” she said. “Then I would like to consummate our marriage tonight, as we are expected to, but because I find you incredibly attractive and like everything that I have seen of you thus far. Besides, there are certain things about a person that you cannot know unless you bed them.” At that, he gave a hearty laugh.

“I’ll admit, you speak the truth of that!” he told her, still chuckling. “You have known many people then?” His gaze held no judgement, and neither did their bond, but she froze.

“No,” she admitted softly. “None.”

“None?” he repeated, the same cold that had overtaken her closing over him. “I had not expected that,” he said softly. “You are untouched?”

“Not entirely,” she admitted, looking away, withdrawing a few paces. “But I’ve never been touched below the waist.” There was silence between them, the bond confused. She couldn’t sort out what he was feeling because it changed moment to moment until finally he took a deep breath and let it out slowly and the emotions between them settled into tenderness.

“I am thankful that you told me,” he said softly at last. “I have no wish to hurt you and… it may hurt the first time. But I will be as gentle as I possibly can be for you, if you still want this.”

Lyna swallowed hard before raising her gaze to his. Then she smiled, oddly touched. “You are anything but what I expected,” she told him. He smiled.

“I will take that as a compliment.” He opened his arms for her as she moved close again.

“You should,” she admitted, reaching up to pluck away the pins that held his headpiece in place. His slender fingers moved to the clasp on her necklace. The ornaments fell to the floor together. He picked pins and combs from her hair as she gently removed his many earrings next. “I was honestly expecting the worst. Some brute who cares only for power and securing his legacy through this match.” He smiled wryly at her as her hair came down all at once. Then he blinked and seemed enthralled with running his fingers through the soft strands. She smirked when he continued to explore the heavy weight of silk on her head. “Find something you like?” she asked, teasing. He blinked, snapping out of it, and smiled at her.

“I believe I have,” he told her, his gaze intense on her eyes. She felt herself blush, the intent of his words resonating in their bond. “In truth, I expected the worst from you, as well,” he said, continuing their conversation as she pushed his long robe off his shoulders. He carefully pulled her earrings out as she tried to figure out how his wrapped cloth vest came off. “I expected a simpering maiden who would never meet my eyes, who’d never had a single blister and would balk at the idea of roaming the woods and camping in ancient and abandoned ruins.” She laughed, then simply tugged his vest up over his head, having given up figuring it out.

“I was out hunting the day you were elevated,” she told him. “As you were named Evanuris, I was cleaning my kill.” He grinned at her.

“You are a hunter, then?” he asked, tugging at the laces of her dress on her back. He fumbled and she turned, pulling her hair over one shoulder to give him access. “My thanks,” he murmured, focusing on the laces.

“I am,” she said, continuing the conversation. “I’ve been wielding a bow and hunting for my family since I was nine years old.”

“Nine?” he repeated, shocked. She laughed.

“I was nine when I made my first kill,” she admitted. “My father taught me. He was so proud!”

“You must be quite skilled, then,” he said as she felt the laces finally come free. She clutched the fabric to her chest as it threatened to fall away, nerves coiling in her stomach and halting the conversation. Slowly, she turned to face him. Feeling her hesitation through the bond, he stood patiently and waited for her to choose. She looked at him, his bared chest broad with muscle. His wide shoulders begged for her fingers to dig into them and his narrow waist seemed made for her legs to wrap around. His muscles were defined, showing the strength of the warrior he was. And his gaze was patient, though she could feel his arousal blooming. She took a deep breath and wet her lips with her tongue before allowing the fabric of her dress to fall away.

As her gown pooled at her feet, Fen’Harel allowed his gaze to travel down her form. She could feel his attention as it drifted from her eyes down her face, lingered for just a moment on her lips, traced the line of her collarbone and there he felt the urge to bite, then down again to her breasts. Her breath quickened and her nipples puckered for him as his eyes traced the heavy round globes and he wet his lips and she felt that he wanted to taste them. Then his gaze moved on while liquid heat pooled in her belly, aroused by his arousal. His palms itched to grasp her waist where it narrowed before flaring out again to her hips and he bit his lip and she was fairly sure he wanted to remove her tiny panties with his teeth. Still, his gaze continued, traveling down her strong thighs and muscled calves all the way to to her bare toes, which were curling into the carpet beneath them.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed at last, his voice rough and almost broken by desire. Testing what she could do with their bond, wondering if he’d understand, she tried to beckon to him using only their bond. She thought of what it might feel like to have his teeth on her collarbone and removing her panties, and he sucked in a quick breath, briefly closing his eyes. “Was than an invitation?” he asked. She could only nod.

Slowly, he moved closer. His hand tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck and his satin lips descended on hers. She cried out into his mouth at the startling pleasure and his fingers tightened in her hair. She felt a tug, a need, and it settled into a satisfied hum between them when she placed her hands on his chest. She explored the sculpted planes of muscle while he bit her lips and twined their tongues, his hand in her hair and his lips on hers the only touch he allowed himself. So she stepped closer until she was pressed against him and they both moaned as flesh met flesh and she had the unique experience of feeling her own soft breasts press against his muscled chest. His other hand finally moved and he wrapped his arm around her waist, but it wasn’t what she needed.

He felt her need in their bond and abandoned her lips to kiss a trail across her cheek and down to her neck, where he scraped his teeth along her skin. Goosebumps rose on his skin from the sensation it caused her, shivering through her core. Her nails bit into his chest as his teeth bit into her neck and she felt the little spikes of pain in her flesh and the way it made him hungrier. When his mouth moved down to her collarbone to give it the attention he had thought about earlier, she took the opportunity presented and bit the tip of his long ear. He gasped as it twitched between her teeth and lightning shot through them both.

“Find something you like?” she gasped as he shuddered, then bit him again. He moaned, muffling the sound by biting her collarbone hard enough to bruise. She leaned into the touch, loving the sharp press of his teeth in her flesh. He fell to his knees before her, forcing her to release his ear. From this new position he could suck her nipple into his mouth and tease the puckered flesh with his tongue. She threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him, and when she felt his teeth as he sucked her head fell back as pleasure shot through her.

“Find something you like?” he asked back, his hands tracing patterns in her waist. He kissed each breast gently. “You are so soft,” he murmured, as though he wasn’t even aware that he was speaking. “Soft and strong and so receptive to my touch, so easy to pleasure. How many times can I make you come tonight?” At his words, heat shot to her core so sharply and suddenly that it almost hurt and he moaned as he buried his face in her belly and kissed it somewhat desperately. “So receptive,” he groaned again.

All thoughts of modesty or hesitation were completely forgotten as Fen’Harel gripped the cloth of her panties between his teeth and tugged. He had to use his hands to get it past the swell of her ass, where his hands remained and kneaded the flesh. Once her panties were off he kissed her groin and lightly bit each hip bone. Then he surged to his feet and clasped her to him, lifting her off her feet. She squealed in surprise at the sudden move, seemingly impulsive as she had not been warned of his desires through their bond. He had instead been captivated by the heat of her and licking his lips in anticipation of her taste and she wanted him to taste her.

He laid her gently on the bed, but she sat up as soon as he released her. She moved her hands to the front of his pants and he shuddered hard under her touch. He was aching, the cloth restrictive enough to cause him pain, and she wanted to ease him. Her own arousal pounded through her veins and pulsed in her sex, but for now it could be ignored. She gazed up at him as she tugged the laces free and pushed his pants down past his hips. He was watching her with dark eyes, standing beside the bed, held up by knees that were quickly turning to water. When she freed his cock her mouth fell open at his size. He was considerably larger than any she’d seen before, but rather than causing worry about their fit she was only excited. She knew that she’d be more than wet enough for him when it was time.

She looked up and met his eyes, dark with lust and need, and licked her lips. She smiled at the way it made his lust bloom. “How many times can I make you come tonight?” she mused, then shivered at the liquid pleasure of the precum her words summoned forth from him.

“As many times as you want,” he answered, his voice rough. She smiled slyly, their combined arousal making her bold.

“What if I asked you for a hundred?” she breathed across his cock, not quite touching him. It twitched for her as his stomach muscles clenched.

“Then I shall give you a hundred,” he vowed, voice breaking on the final word. She looked up at him and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out to lick his tip, then stopped just short as he shuddered violently.

“And if I asked you for none at all?” she asked him curiously. He felt that her question was no tease and she felt his sincerity when he answered.

“Then I would pleasure you in other ways if you wished or leave you now if you prefer,” he told her. She grinned at him.

“Good,” she said. “I think, however, that I would prefer a hundred.” And then, without giving him time to process her words, she took his tip into her mouth. With a shout he bent over her, his hands tangling in her hair and pleasure scorching through him. And she shuddered at how close he came to orgasm just from that, her thighs clenching and slick with her own arousal.

“You have done this before,” he ground out between his teeth as she began to suck on his length and pull at his foreskin with her lips. She ran her tongue under the hood before answering.

“I told you only that I have never been touched below the waist,” she reminded him. “That still leaves many other possibilities to be explored.” And then she settled in, bobbing her head to take more of his considerable length. He was thick enough to stretch her mouth and she knew she would make her jaw sore if she did as she wanted and suckled him for hours on end, but the flashing and pulsing pleasure he felt, the liquid feeling of her tongue and her hot mouth on him made her want to do it anyway. When he hit the back of her throat he groaned, but when she pushed him past that barrier, opening her throat to take him all the way, his breath left him in a rush and he shuddered as he fought his orgasm.

“L-Lyna,” he stuttered, his breaths shaking and hectic. She gave him her desire through the bond and moaned. The vibrations shuddered through his cock, but still he withheld from her. In frustration at his control, she reached a hand between his legs and cupped his balls, massaging them gently as he moaned again. And he couldn’t fight it anymore, coming with a shout and pouring his seed down the back of her throat. She swallowed it even with his cock still in her throat. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her neck, letting him feel how his length distended the flesh, and his orgasm intensified. And she was drowning in the waves of his pleasure, liquid heat pooling in the base of her spine and her sex pulsing and clenching with pleasure, but it was not quite enough to make her follow him in orgasm. The sensations were dulled through their bond just enough to allow her to hold back.

When finally he was spent she pulled back slowly, breathing in strangled gasps that made her see black dots after keeping him in her throat so long. His legs were shaking as he watched her swallow and she tugged him onto the bed.

There were no words between them as he recovered, their breathing harsh and loud in the silence of the room. His arousal did not soften at all, her need keeping him hard and ready despite his release. But they lay there, side by side, and watched each other as they calmed.

When finally their breathing steadied and the worst of his shaking had ebbed, he rolled atop her, then hesitated. “I would like to taste you,” he whispered, and she saw his skin pebble with goosebumps again as she shivered. She nodded, not trusting her voice. He trailed kisses across her skin as he moved down her body. He sucked hard on each nipple before kissing his way across her belly. He parted her legs gently as he settled between them, hooking his arms under her knees and resting his hands on her hips. He simply looked at her, glistening wet in the low light of the room. He licked her thigh, tracing the path of her dripping juices and moaning, stopping just short of her sex. And she felt his pleasure at her taste shuddering through him. He glanced up but she palmed the back of his head desperately. She felt his amusement at her eagerness and dove into her. She cried out softly as his tongue pushed past her entrance, then again when he circled her clit. He pulled no punches, eagerly building her pleasure. But he kept her hovering at the edge once he had her there, her sex clenching desperately within as he sucked gently on her clit and flicked it with his tongue. Then he gently penetrated her with one finger.

“Ah! Yes! Fen’Harel…” she cried, but it still wasn’t enough. She didn’t know what he was doing, how he was keeping her from coming when she was so very close. But that finger simply didn’t fill her enough. A second finger joined it a moment later and it was better, so much better. It stretched her and filled her and then he curled his fingers just right within her and she fell over the precipice with a shout. Stars exploded behind her eyes as he continued to lap up her wetness, and she could feel his pleasure at her pleasure, the way it shivered through him. Her muscles clenched and she writhed under his touch until finally he allowed her release to end. She was limp from it, but not sated. She opened her eyes a moment later and beckoned him with a finger. He smiled and crawled up her body after wiping his chin and mouth on the sheets.

He kissed her deeply and they each tasted themselves in it. Her hands settled on his back as he cupped her face in his palm. “I have done my best to prepare you, Lyna,” he said, his voice harsh with pleasure, “and I will be gentle as I promised. But it may still hurt you.”

“I know,” she told him, nodding, her voice even more broken than his. “Do it anyway. I want this.” Her words shuddered through him and he swallowed hard. He angled himself at her entrance with a hand to guide his length and slowly pressed inside. She lifted her knees, spreading herself wide for him, marveling at the feeling of fullness as he inched slowly inside. But it was warm, so warm, and she could feel herself gloving his cock, could feel the pleasure as she clenched briefly and his struggle not to thrust inside and pound her hard. Still, he was patient and moved with agonizing patience, stretching her gently as he had promised. But she felt no pain, only the pleasure of friction, until finally he was sheathed fully within her.

“Ohh, yes.” Lyna didn’t know which of them said it, or if they both did, but it was perfect as their bodies came together. She fit him like a glove, his length nestled inside her like it belonged there. And then he gave a shallow thrust, testing their fit, and pleasure arced up her spine. He gasped with her and she knew they would not last through this doubled pleasure.

A harder thrust, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He balanced above her on extended arms. He glanced down at their joining and closed his eyes, groaning, and she shuddered with his pleasure. He picked up speed until he was pounding her as he’d desired to, the wet slap of their skin echoing loudly in her ears. She felt no pain from him, only pleasure as her nails bit into his back and she attempted to hold on to her sanity through the waves of pleasure each thrust bounced between them. Then he tilted his hips, changing the angle, and she clawed at him as sweet oblivion swept her away. Her body clenched around his, the pleasure hot and wet within her, lightning crackling through her body into her very bones. He followed her into release, his thrusts losing their rhythm as his seed poured forth and filled her with liquid heat that took her breath away.

It was too much, the pleasure, and she was screaming and writhing and begging. _More, stop, don’t ever stop, too much, harder._ She couldn’t make sense of her own desires, completely overwhelmed. And it continued like that for long minutes until she lost herself completely and forgot her own name, forgot who she was and where she was, lost everything but the pleasure.

But finally it ended and she returned to herself. Breathing hard, finally sated, she brushed Fen’Harel’s hair over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He’d collapsed atop her at some point and she held him steady in the cradle of her body. And no words were needed as he gradually grew limp within her, both of them shaking. Then she shifted, seeking a more comfortable position, and it jostled them just enough to cause pleasure to spike through them once more.

Fen’Harel lifted his head to grin cheekily at her. “Again?” he asked. “You did promise me a hundred.”

And Lyna laughed breathlessly as he crawled back down her body, seeming intent to give as many as he received. And she was not at all displeased with the match that had been chosen for her. He was incredible…


	3. Meeting Too Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "More for that Arlathan AU: Fen'harel has been away for too long in meetings with the Evanuris. Lyna decides to take matters into her own hands and torment him through their bond. (bonus points for early pregnancy?)" From @thema-sal-shiral on tumblr!

“Centuries of marriage and every time we have sex still feels like the first,” Lyna mused, untangling Fen’Harel’s many braids from each other as he lay with his ear against her belly, eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face. A frisson of amusement warmed her chest from him across their marriage bond.

“Oh? You are nervous with no idea what you’re doing every single time?” he challenged, not even bothering to open his eyes. His smile widened when he felt the movement under his cheek and he flooded her with joy and wonder.

Lyna rolled her eyes. “No, you ass, I meant that you come too soon every time!” she told him instead of the sweet compliment she’d planned. He laughed heartily and leaned up to kiss her, his tongue still tasting of her sex.

“Ah, but I’m always ready for more after only a moment,” he whispered into her mouth, making them both shiver.

She sighed in mock disappointment. “You’re so deep in denial you can’t even see daylight anymore,” she lamented. His playful grin widened again.

“No, but I’ll be so deep in you in a few moments that it won’t matter at all,” he told her, a hand drifting down her bare, rounded stomach to tease at her sex. Lyna laughed.

“Actually, you won’t,” she said with confidence. He stilled. “You’re supposed to be at a meeting with Mythal ten minutes ago.” Raw panic flooded him and he bounded out of bed. A wet cloth from the vanity cleaned his crotch as he shook out his hair and tried to order his braids. The cloth ended up on the floor in front of the vanity when he throw fell short. He struggled into a tunic while also trying to bind his hair and Lyna propped herself up with a grin to watch him fumble. While he was hopping on one leg, trying to get his trousers on while still struggling with his hair, she used one hand to pluck at her nipple and the other to run a lazy finger through her sex. He yelped as the sudden flash of pleasure made him fall on his ass and she laughed.

“Ma sa’lath, please!” he admonished, glaring. He finished putting on his pants while sitting on the floor and glaring at her. She continued laughing. Once he was finished dressing, he kissed her deeply for a moment, then pressed a gentle kiss to her belly where their first child slept and grew, just barely big enough yet to move noticeably. “Be well while I am gone,” he whispered to them both. “I will return by nightfall.” He kissed her once more and was out the door.

He didn’t return at nightfall. Through their bond, she could feel his frustration as day turned to night and the lamps were lit, but she felt no sign of his return. She grew frustrated quickly, her hormones demanding his presence and her routine accustomed to it. She needed him, but he was not there. And he was late and she was frustrated and she was pregnant, so when the idea arose to torment him a little more she didn’t even try to fight it.

Freshly bathed and still naked, Lyna laid down on their bed, the one they had shared for centuries since the night of their wedding. With one hand she began to massage a breast while she trailed the other across her skin the way he did, raising goosebumps. She closed her eyes and imagined him there, imagined what he would be doing to her. In her mind’s eye her husband kissed her sweetly, tasting of wine and sugar, delicious as ever. She thought about stripping him down, running her hands on his smooth skin to feel the taut muscles beneath. She thought about his cock, large and wide with a slight curve upward that she loved because it made him rub against that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. She licked her lips and imagined rolling back the hood with her thumb to find him already beading precum on the tip for her. It was salty but also sweet, a delightful treat that she adored. As she thumbed her nipple and her other hand moved to her sex, she thought about sucking on him, taking him deep into her mouth, swallowing the head and hearing him groan. She thought about swallowing his seed as she worked it free and the way he would shout her name as though surprised.

She felt the warning in her mind, the admonition from her husband that told her to stop what she was doing, but she ignored it. She dipped a finger into her sex and imagined that it was his tongue. She felt a tightness in her belly that meant that he was hard enough to be aching for her and she smiled as she pinched her nipple. She touched her clit and moaned, then felt his brief moment of panic. She wondered if he’d almost burst free of his trousers or if someone perhaps commented on his flushed cheeks or how preoccupied he seemed. Whatever happened, it was only amusing to her, and her reward was his irritation and a stronger warning that she ignored just as she had the last one. She circled her clit with one lazy finger, still imagining his tongue in place of her touch, pleasure building within her quickly now. It was a thrill that he was somewhere public where such a thing was frowned upon at best while she forced his arousal to new heights. She could feel the thrill from him as well, though he tried to hide it under frustration. But she found it and plucked the thread and brought it to the surface of his mind, telling him she was not fooled.

And he gave in, encouraged her pleasure of herself with flashes of love and adoration and that same wonder he felt as he worshiped every inch of her skin and whispered, “You are mine, vhenan, my heart and my wife, and I must be the most fortunate person ever to live to have you in my life.” She wondered what he was picturing as his arousal grew painful and then jolted with pleasure as he touched himself to shift it to a more comfortable position. Was he thinking about her body? The way she looked sprawled beneath him? The way she looked above him, perhaps, haloed in sunlight and moaning as he bounced her on his hips? Was he thinking about her mouth around his cock, sucking his seed from his sack? Was he thinking about his mouth on her sex, lapping up her flowing juices? Was he thinking about the way it felt to slide inside her, her sex tugging on his cock and all but dragging him inside? Was he thinking about pounding into her, grinding his hips against hers, their eyes locked intimately as their pleasure was shared and amplified between them? Was he thinking about the way she looked when she came for him? He’d seen it often enough, would struggle and fight against his own end so that he could witness hers before being overcome by it.

Lyna gasped and arched up as she came upon her own fingers, thoughts of Fen’Harel, her husband and her heart, strong in her mind. She gasped again when she felt him follow her through the pleasure and shame himself in his trews. She laughed up at the ceiling as his pleasure warred with his embarrassment and warm wetness filled his trousers.

“It’s a good think you wore a long tunic today, ma sa’lath,” she said, though she knew he wouldn’t hear. She laughed to herself, satisfied with her game and his pleasure as she cleaned herself up. It wouldn’t be long now until he came home to her.


	4. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Arlathan AU to be written later, later!: Solas and Lyna separated by the rapid events prior to the Veil. Lyna waking before her husband and becomes Inquisitor. Solas as he sees his wife again, his mark in her hand in the dungeons of Haven, seeing her at the rift, unable to control his feelings and the lost bond." From @thema-sal-shiral on tumblr!

Solas had to struggle not to fall to his knees the moment he saw the elven woman lying on the cold, damp stone of the prison cell. Fortunately, his shock could be explained away as anything; surprise that it was an elven woman or that she existed at all. He could explain away the way his jaw grew slack with shock at the sight of her. But it took all his strength not to rush to her side and fall to his knees and kiss her as though his touch would wake her up.

His wife lay limp on the broken stones of Haven’s dungeon, a woman who had lived nearly as long as he had, who had survived wars even before the rebellion, who had fought at his side to free their people from the other Evanuris. He had not known what became of her after he erected the Veil, against her wishes, and been forced in uthenera from the drain on his power. He had not found her in the Fade for all his wanderings and feared the worst, that his mistake had led to her death. Once he woke, he had not known how to locate her, where she might have slept if indeed she had been sleeping. He’d divided his time since waking between recovering, finding a way to unlock his orb, and finding her. He had thus far been successful in none of his endeavors, still weak, his orb lost for the moment, and not a sign of her or how to find her, the threads that had bound them for millennia silent.

Yet there she lay, his heart unconscious with the Anchor from his orb burned into her palm. There was no chance at all that it was a coincidence, that anything other than her own conscious designs had brought her close enough to the focus of his power to touch it and receive that mark. She was too clever to be driven by happenstance.

He was locked into the cell with her, told to find out anything he could about her and the mark on her palm and how she could have survived the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He went willingly, eagerly, into her cage. He needed to touch her, make sure she was real, help her if he could. He’d always been a good healer, but her skill was far beyond his. If he could wake her, perhaps she could restore herself. Perhaps he could see her eyes and taste her smile once more.

He first assessed her health and found her near death. Panic rose in his chest, wondering if that was why he could not feel her through their marriage bond. He poured whatever power he’d regained into her, to steady her heart and regulate her breathing. He mended bones and knit torn muscle, soothed aches and smoothed bruises until his vhenan was whole once more. But still he did not feel her in his mind. He had not been so alone in thousands of years and it was awful, nearly painful. He missed her comforting presence in his mind more than anything else of the old world, the right world. Her love had filled his heart and his mind for centuries, and without it he felt as though a piece of himself was missing. She was his heart, beating outside his chest, and she was silent to him.

Her eyelids fluttered, signifying that she was waking. Solas glanced around for watching eyes and listening ears and found nothing; they were alone now that hours had passed during which he had healed her. The shemlen were so impatient…

Lyna moaned softly, her brow furrowing as eyes fluttered open. She stared at him blankly for a moment before her eyes widened and filled with tears. She reached a hand up to his face and he caught it and held it against his cheek, crying with her.

“I couldn’t find you,” she said, her voice hoarse as though she’d been screaming for hours. Perhaps she had. “I searched and searched for centuries.” She hiccuped, tears running hot and fast down her face. “I watched our people diminish because you wouldn’t wait for me to find another solution. I asked anyone who would listen where you had gone. No one knew. I watched scavengers pick apart what remained of our people. I watched them forget who they are and what they were meant for. I had no power left to guide them, though I tried. Nearly everyone who would have followed me had perished because of your impatience, vhenan. I couldn’t find you!”

He shushed her, trying to soothe her. “I am here now,” he reminded her. “We have found each other. Ir abelas, vhenan. You were right. I was a fool and I should have listened.” He bent his head and kissed her and she leaned up eagerly to his touch. He kissed her hard for all the long years they’d been apart, each searching for the other, each fearing the worst. He devoured her mouth, biting her lips, being bitten, tongues dancing together. It was bliss. But it was not connection. He pulled away.

“Why can’t I feel you?” he asked her, despair threatening to overwhelm him as tears continued to fall. “Did you annul our marriage while I slept? Were you that furious with me?”

Weak though her grip was, she tugged at him desperately until he wrapped her in his arms and held her close. “Never, ma sa’lath,” she told him fiercely. “You are my only love and even though you can be an idiot I would have no other. The marriage bonds were just another part of our magic that cannot exist without the Fade. There are so many… but this is the one I miss the most.”

“I feel empty without you in my mind,” he admitting softly, clutching her tightly. “Alone.”

“So do I,” she murmured into his shoulder, strong hand keeping him close. “It feels wrong to be alone in my own head. I don’t like it.”

He sniffled, trying to collect himself. “I will fix it,” he told her, pulling back far enough to see her face. “When I find my orb again I can undo this mistake.” She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking.

“You would destroy them to accomplish it,” she said.

“What does it matter?” he asked. “They were never meant to exist. They are not our people!”

“But they _are_ people, ma sa’lath,” she told him with conviction. “They are real, more than the shadows you see.”

“How do you know what I see?” he asked her, frustrated with this half formed communication, incomplete without their bond to add layers of nuance and emotion to each word.

“Because I know you, my heart, even without our bond,” she told him as though it were obvious. He supposed it should be. “You would see them as less so that destroying them is not a crime, is not the genocide it is. But they are not less, only different. I have not slept through these long years as you have. I have lived among them all this time and watched them grow and change. They are _real_ , Fen’Harel.”

“Don’t use that name,” he warned quickly, panic making him glance about again to confirm that they were alone. “They cannot know who we are. Surely you know that they would kill us on the spot if they knew!”

“Yes, of course I know,” she told him calmly. “I belong to a Dalish clan now. I have for a few centuries, trying to teach them the old ways as much as I can. They would protect my identity and the knowledge of my true age with their lives if they had to. To all the world, I am Lyna Ashavise Lavellan, from the Free Marches. Who are you?”

“Solas,” he told her with a smile. “Just Solas, an apostate and a traveler, a Dreamer who knows much of the Fade. I told them the truth about myself, every question they asked answered with the truth. But they didn’t ask me if I had other names. They didn’t ask the important questions, so they do not know me as anything more than a humble elven apostate.”

“A smart move,” she complimented with a small smile. “One of the few you have made,” she continued, her tone biting. She shook her head. “You gave your power to a corrupted magister who wishes to be a god? I was there when he and his ilk breached the Fade! I saw the terror they wrought and the devastation they caused with their spells! They thought to claim the Black City for their Old God dragons, but instead they nearly breached the prison and freed those trapped within! And now he works on behalf of no dragon-god, only for himself. He is _dangerous,_ Solas! How could you ever think this was a good idea?”

“He should be dead now from the blast,” Solas said with a dismissive wave.

 _“He is not,”_ Lyna ground out, glaring hard. “He knew, Solas. Don’t ask me how, but he knew the devastation he would cause and he knew he would survive it.”

“What happened?” he asked quickly, panic rising again. Lyna frowned, then closed her eyes to concentrate. When she opened them again, terror filled her gaze.

“I don’t remember,” she whispered, her voice so small. “I remember infiltrating the Conclave, posing as a servant. I don’t remember what happened after. I don’t remember finding him or how he unlocked the orb.” She gazed at the Anchor in her hand. “I don’t remember how I got this.” She looked up at him again, eyes wet with tears. “Solas, I don’t know what happened to me.” He wrapped her in his arms again, holding her close.

“Hush, ma sa’lath, be at ease,” he whispered into her tangled and dirty hair. “You are safe and we will discover what happened.” He held her as she shook in terror. He didn’t know what she felt, what thoughts sped through her mind as they sat in silence and held each other, and that hurt more than any of her accusations or revelations. He missed her, though she was clutching at his chest for comfort. He missed her even more now that he’d found her again. For as long as he had known her, she had been a part of him. To be with her yet without that connection was agony.

“What do we tell them?” she asked at last, as her tears finally dried. “We cannot tell them who we are. But I will not treat you like a stranger now that we’re finally together again.”

“I could not bear that, either,” he admitted. She pulled back to look at him and he claimed her lips again. “I will tell them that you are my wife, but not yet,” he told her when they pulled back. “You should sleep again and pretend you did not wake for me. When you wake next, you will be interrogated, most likely by Cassandra and Leliana, perhaps also a man named Cullen though I believe he is fighting right now. I doubt it will be pleasant. I will tell them that the mark in your hand, of which they have no knowledge, might be able to close the rifts in the Veil. It will be explained to you later,” he said when she opened her mouth to question him. “For now, it is best that your reactions be genuine. You will be brought to a rift and I will be there. I’ll make sure of it. Run to me then as though it is your first time seeing me in years. We will admit to them that we are married and I will explain that I withheld this information because I feared for you. You will seal the rift with the Anchor and they will be forced to admit that they need you.” He paused and looked her over, stroking her cheek and considering the plan. “There is so much danger to you… But I do not know what else to do. Will you trust me for now? I swear I will listen to whatever plan you come up with, but for now I believe it would be best to play along with them and make ourselves invaluable.”

“Alright, vhenan,” she said after a moment, and he almost sagged in relief. “Once I know what is happening and can assess the situation, we will discuss this again. But for now, I will sleep. And when I wake I will be interrogated and then brought to a rift in the Veil, which I will seal. And we will tell them that we are wed and we will make ourselves invaluable to them in order to protect ourselves.” He nodded and she pulled his face down to hers again, devouring his mouth with desperation. “Put me to sleep, then, vhanan,” she whispered when she released him. “And remember that I love you. And we will never be parted again.” He kissed her forehead, magic in the touch, and her eyelids drooped.

“Ar lath ma,” he reminded her as sleep took her once more. She would wake in a few hours and he needed to tell Cassandra his carefully constructed story.


	5. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Arlathan AU for future reference: Century anniversary of their Wedding? Maybe Lyna does something special for Fen'harel? Dancing, taking him on a hunt, exploring old ruins?" From @thema-sal-shiral on tumblr! (Duh, this whole AU is her fault!)

In Elvhenan, marriage was an incredibly private affair. Except when it wasn’t. Like any court throughout history, it had intrigue revolving around sexual courtship and scandals when that courtship was with someone forbidden. And there were places one could go if one wished to be seen in the company of another. However, not everyone partook of such posturing. The Evanuris were considered above such things, for example. Mythal and Elgar’nan never so much as held hands in public, though Andruil and Ghilan’nain made it quite clear that they had eyes only for each other.

For Fen’Harel and Lyna, their marriage had been largely private. In the beginning, they were simply trying to know each other. They had, after all, only met on the day of their wedding. The magic of the bond could tell them much, but words were also needed. It was rather stressful, trying to balance their responsibilities and each other, trying to settle into life together with a stranger. Many nights were spent awake until dawn, talking through the night and using spells to stay awake the next day. It was years before they could successfully fall into a routine, though it helped that they were really good in bed together.

Once they knew each other better, they still kept their marriage private. Neither felt any need to prove something to court and neither had a taste for public… affairs. It was unnecessary.

But certain celebrations were expected in regards to their marriage. The end of their first century was meant to be marked by a party of some sort, though neither was very looking forward to it very much. Unlike Lyna, Fen’Harel had a colorful youth and those they would be expected to invite to the party would inevitably include former lovers. Many of them were bitter, from what Lyna had learned; they had enjoyed the prestige that came with being his lover and were displeased when he made them leave. Lyna may have suffered a bit of anxiety in the beginning that he would tire of her as he had tired of them, but he was quick to allay that fear with words and then with deeds. In the end, time had shown the truth, that he would remain with her because he loved her.

It was a rare match that culminated in love, and Lyna knew how fortunate she was. The best most people locked in an arranged marriage could hope for was friendship, but she knew that her love for her husband ran just as deep as his for her. She was grateful, for him and for the bond that let her know his feelings. So for the event of their century’s anniversary, she wanted to show him.

It was difficult to keep a secret from someone who could read her emotions and feel them as his own, but she managed to keep her excitement under control and buried her preparations under those for the obligatory feast. He had no idea that she was planning anything after the party except a night to ravish each other.

The feast was, as expected, boring and filled with little insults. Fen’Harel’s temper kept Lyna’s tongue sharp and between the two of them they sparked two feuds on accident. It hardly mattered; the affronted parties would be soothed later, when tempers had cooled.

“He is delightful company, isn’t he?” a lady tittered, eyes narrowed in mirth as she spoke to Lyna but kept her eyes on Fen’Harel’s backside. Then she turned her gaze to Lyna and spoke low, as though sharing a secret. “Yet I’d wager that I can be better company.”

The whole night, that was how it went, jilted lovers attempting to pry them apart and far too much politics for a marriage anniversary celebration. But the food was excellent and the wine was sweet and no one ended up dead, though a few came close when hands wandered too far. Finally, everyone left and Lyna could be alone with her husband.

Eagerly, grinning and giggling now that the ordeal was over, Lyna pulled on Fen’Harel’s hand and dragged him up to their room. Once inside, she shoved a bundle of cloth into his hands.

“Here! Get changed,” she told him as she quickly stripped out of her own finery. He looked bemused, his confusion only slightly mellowing her buzz of excitement. She’d been so careful to keep her emotions about this hidden that they were all pouring forth at once and she was jittery as she pulled on simple cotton to protect her skin. Then she fastened leather armor over it, pulling out her set and his from the hidden cabinet. It was far simpler than was expected of an Evanuris and his wife, but that was the point; they were not wearing it to posture but to protect. Where they were going they might have need of it.

Lyna had a bow for each of them and a quiver of arrows, but also two pairs of long, sharp daggers to be strapped to their thighs. Outfitted like a huntress once more, Lyna sighed with contentment, then dragged Fen’Harel to the little portal she’d made. She looked at him, grinning, and jumped in amid his protests. He followed a moment later and blinked in the sudden darkness.

“Where are we?” he asked softly, glancing around suspiciously.

“This way!” she said instead of answering, pulling on his arm with a grin. She led him through the trees, ducking a few low branches and clambering over roots and vines and underbrush, until they finally reached a clearing. There was a pond where a mountain stream gathered midway through and the sky was clear and bright above them, millions of stars and two nearly-full moons to light the area. And in the middle of the clearing near the pond was a blanket. And on the blanket was a little feast of treats, tiny cakes and chocolates in Fen’Harel’s favorite flavors.

“What’s all this?” he asked her, smiling as she led him toward the blanket.

“The feast was awful,” she admitted, still grinning. “And we knew it would be awful. I didn’t want our anniversary to be just a bunch of jealous idiots and social climbers jabbering at us. So I planned a surprise for you!” She skipped joyfully toward the blanket, still towing him along, but he suddenly planted his feet and used her grip on his arm to draw her near. He caught her up, arm wrapping around her waist, and she fell against him. He caught her and his warm lips met hers and she sighed into his mouth with pleasure.

“A picnic under the stars,” he mused once he released her mouth. She could feel his pleasure through their bond, the way the last of the lingering aggravation melted away in the lovely surprise. “Then why are we armed and armored?”

“We’re in the Wilds, vhenan,” Lyna told him as though it were obvious. “And I thought we might do a bit of hunting later. I miss hunting…”

“How long were you planning for us to stay out here?” he asked with a smirk. He knew her too well. She grinned and easily admitted defeat.

“At least three days,” she told him. He chuckled and pulled her close to kiss her again. When he released her, she was breathless. “There’s a tent set up at the edge of the clearing,” she gasped, and his eyes found it, waiting beside where the stream disappeared into the trees.

“This is wonderful, vhenan,” he told her with a gentle smile, and she grinned.

“I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure…” She knew he liked the outdoors and wandering the Wilds, but she hadn’t been certain he would appreciate the surprise. Yet his pleasure and love burned in her chest and she knew she’d made the right call. He smiled and kissed her nose to make it wrinkle. He too her hand, which had rested on his shoulder, and pressed it against his chest, his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened again they sparkled with magic. The sounds of the forest around them, the breeze in the trees and the insects calling out, slowed and steadied until the sounds of the Wilds matched the beating of his heart. She closed her eyes to appreciate the subtle magic of it, to make music out of nature so easily.

Fen’Harel kept her hand pressed against his heart, his hand holding hers. His other hand he wrapped around her waist, and then he stepped in time with the beat. She opened her eyes in surprise as he began to lead her through a slow waltz, the music of the Wilds guiding them. She grinned and fell into step easily, letting him lead and following the steady beating of his heart until hers matched its rhythm. And their hearts beat as one and the natural world around them followed until they were a part of the forest and it was a part of them. And the moment everything was so perfectly in tune, the Fade sent colored sparks of magic glittering through the clearing. Lyna gasped at the simple magic, created not by them but by the harmony they had caused. They did not pull at the Fade, whatever magic Solas had initially used to steady the Wilds had evaporated. It was a natural magic, beautiful in its simplicity.

“You are my heart,” he whispered against her lips as he allowed their steps to cease. She smiled at him, his heart beating steady under her fingers. “You are my love. You give joy to my life. I could search for an eternity and never find anyone as perfect for me as you are. You are too good to me, to give me this, to give me you, but I will take it anyway because I am selfish and I want you. I love you, Lyna. I could never have asked for a better wife, a better friend and lover. You hold my heart in your hand and I give it to you freely.” He squeezed her fingers gently and she swallowed hard, trying to blink back the tears of joy that threatened.

“You have such a way with words,” she said with a wet chuckle. “I will always cherish your heart,” she promised. “It is precious to me because it is yours, because you are precious to me. You are my home, Fen’Harel. Not that palace we live in. It doesn’t matter to me where we are as long as I can be with you.”

Fen’Harel rested his forehead against hers and breathed deeply. “I feel the same,” he breathed. Then his lips met hers, arms tight around her. The song of the forest increased in tempo.


End file.
